Making It Through
by Morning Lilies
Summary: In the darkest times, we need our friends to find the light. Harry and Ron's friendship for the Best Freinds Competition.


**A/N: So here's my second entry for the Best Friends Competition Take Two. I had Harry and Ron, a friendship I love, but I wish I'd had more time to hone this. I had intended it to be longer, but it took me so long to get a good idea for them that I had to cut it back a bit or it would never have been done. The quote this was based on: I will always be able to get through the dark times in life, as long as I know my friends are waiting for me in the light. I hope you like it! I really think it fits them as Ron (and Hermione) are always there to keep Harry on his feet after all the things he goes through, and when they need it, Harry's there to reciprocate. **

**Oh, and I don't own a thing. **

_June, 1995_

It was like walking around in a fog, a heat haze, sometimes. Things seemed to blur together. Sounds faded away and odd things came echoing over to him as though through water. Harry felt removed from it all, as if he were merely walking through films that continued to play on their reel; the sun rose and set, clouds drifted across a sky, teachers talked, students hurried up and down the halls, going to classes and leaving them in a repetitious loop, like some slow-motion synchronized dance.

And amazingly, none of it seemed to touch him. He had burrowed down so deep in himself – maybe afraid that one more thing could destroy him – that very little managed to penetrate his numbness. It all passed like cool currents of water over the top of his hole.

The horrors of that night still loomed in the shadows of his thoughts, spontaneously chilling him, twisting his gut, waking him in the middle of the night with terror of what had happened and what might come. As if to off-set those moments of rushing sensation and emotion, there were times when he simply spaced out, was lost to the world around him and did not think or feel at all.

It was a swaying pine tree this time. Harry had been about to go down and find Ron and Hermione (never very hard these days, as at least one of them kept no more than a room away) so that they could get breakfast before it was over. But as he'd pulled his socks on, something over the top of the windowsill caught his eye: the tip of a pine tree. It was pulled to the right by a gentle wind, let loose to sway to the left, then was pulled again. The rhythm hypnotized him, allowed everything to drain away, and he was stuck fast, watching.

Harry never knew how long these moments of being stuck lasted. Time disappeared with everything else. But eventually the dim sound of the dormitory door opening came to him, followed by footsteps, slow and cautious across the floor. The wind caught the pine tree again.

"Are… you ready?"

It was Ron's voice, which dimly surprised Harry for a second. But then he remembered that Ron and Hermione had been waiting for him, and that hardly anyone else dared to talk to him anymore (which he didn't really mind). He blinked and nodded, pulling his eyes away from the tree with some effort. Harry caught the look of concern on Ron's face before he hastily changed his expression.

"Good, I'm starving, and you know Hermione won't let us go to the kitchens if we miss breakfast," Ron said lightly, flashing a grin as if everything was perfectly normal.

He started for the door, and Harry, after a moment, began to follow. But it happened again. It had been happening a lot more often the closer to the leaving feast they got. This time it was the sneakoscope Ron had given him for his thirteenth birthday. He must have knocked it out of his trunk as he was getting dressed, and there it lay, whistling faintly on the carpet. He ought to pick it up before somebody stepped on it and it broke. But the numbness had already seeped through him. He couldn't move, even if he could remember that he'd wanted to.

"Harry? ...Harry!"

Ron was shaking his shoulder. Harry snapped his head up, squinting a little in the abrupt return to reality. This time, Ron didn't try so hard to mask his worried look. "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded.

"What were you doing?"

Harry glanced down at the sneakoscope lying on the floor. Eyeing him warily, lest he get stuck again, Ron bent down, picked up the whirring gadget and threw it back into Harry's trunk.

"Don't want it to get broken." He straightened up. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been doing that a lot."

Harry shrugged one shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine," he mumbled, and started for the door. Don't think about Cedric. Don't think about his parents. Don't think about Wormtail. Don't think about what the cruciatus curse feels like. Don't think about Mum's echo. Don't think about Dad's voice. Don't think. Don't remember.

"Hagrid's right," Ron told him, stepping swiftly around him so that he could scrutinize Harry's face. "You're _not _fine." He paused, biting his lip. "But you will be. Come on. Grab your broom."

"Why?"

"So we can go help Filch out. What d'you think you'd need it for?"

Harry actually cracked a smile.

XxX

It was a clear, warm morning. Students were splashing in the shallows by the lake, lounging on the emerald lawns. There would have been a swarm over the Quidditch pitch, but Ron had solicited Fred and George's help, and a few well-placed WWW products-in-the-making had cleared the air within five minutes.

The four of them swooped around the pitch, playing an extremely laid-back game of two-aside Quidditch. Hermione and Ginny sat in the stands, cheering and calling up to them. For the first time in what felt like a long while, Harry really felt the warmth of the sun on his face, saw the brilliant blue of the sky, felt the Quaffle smacking into his hands, heard his friends voices rising into the sky around him. For the first time in a long while, he had been broken out of his fog.

They played until the sun began to sink in the sky, and the two skipped meals caught up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry and Ron stayed back to put the balls away while the rest headed up to the castle to see if they could grab a late lunch.

Harry felt Ron watching him out of the corners of his eyes, probably in case he got stuck again. But he didn't. Somehow, being up in the air again had breathed life back into him. It was different now than it had been before the third task, it always would be, but Harry wasn't cocooned so completely anymore.

"Good to know you've still got it," Ron told him as they headed for the castle.

"Got what?" Harry asked.

"Believe me, I'd like to know so I could bottle it up and sell it. Skipping an entire Quidditch season didn't hurt your game one bit."

Harry shrugged. "I missed it," he admitted.

Ron clapped him on the back. "It's missed you, mate."

The sun glowed around them, and Harry could see Hermione and Ginny waiting for them on the steps to the castle (the twins had probably gone to nick food from the kitchens after all). He hadn't realized how alone he'd been, caught up in that fog. But here they all were, waiting for him in the light.

He looked over at Ron. "Thanks. You know, for dragging me out."

Ron rolled his eyes and slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. "What else are friends for?"

XxXxX

_June, 1998_

"Hey."

Ron looked up slowly as Harry leaned over the garden wall to look down at him.

"Oh, hey. Didn't hear you coming."

"Sorry," Harry told him, vaulting over the wall and landing soundlessly beside Ron. "Habit."

Ron understood. Make a noise while you're trying to sneak up on some Voldeomort supporter hiding out in an abandoned shack, and it might cost you a valuable limb if you're lucky. He wished Harry would stop going after Voldemort supporters hiding out in shacks. But, ironically, it seemed like one of the few things keeping his friend sane at the moment, to feel that he was doing something.

Harry nudged him with his shoulder. "You okay?"

Ron shrugged. No. He wasn't okay. None of them were okay. And sometimes he wondered if any of them would be okay ever again.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry said, very quietly, "It'll get better."

Ron looked at him sharply. "Yeah? You see George this morning?"

Harry nodded, his face tightening in pain for a second. George had had a rough night. A rough month, actually. He inhaled deeply. "But it gets better. It always does, eventually."

Any fight that might have been stirring itself up in Ron drained away. If anybody could tell him that with certainty, it was Harry. But it didn't really help, all the same.

They didn't say anymore for a while. Ron could feel the ever-present weight of loss pulsing through him, as it had for over a month. He had watched people around him mourn before. But he had never understood how deep that wound went.

"Come on," Harry said at last. He pulled himself to his feet and hauled Ron up, too. Instead of heading back towards the house, Harry led Ron around towards the paddock. Ron's broom was back in his room, but all of Ron's brothers (except Percy, of course) had stored plenty of Fire Whiskey inside a rock out there.

"George's a mess," Ron muttered, plodding obediently along beside Harry.

"We're all a mess," Harry said.

"How do you keep on going when you're a mess? How do you know anything can be okay when you're a mess?"

Harry shrugged. "You just do. Look, if I've figured out anything, it's that. You've seen me fall apart plenty of times before, but eventually I got myself put back together. Know why?"

Ron shook his head. He'd wondered that for years, really.

"Cause I always had you guys waiting for me once I did. And you'll always have me." Harry slung his arm over Ron's shoulders. "What else are friends for?"

**A/N: What did you think of that? :)**


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